


If I Was Your Vampire

by thehotinpsychotic



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: High School AU, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/thehotinpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey Way has spent most of his life in the shadows, literally. Being born a vampire by his parents, he now lives in New York City with his brother, Gerard. He goes to school just like everyone else his age, riding the bus to get there every morning. He's starting his sophomore year of high school at the age of sixteen, and he's looking to get his diploma and get out. The other kids aren't making it easy, though. He's often ignored, the only exception being times when he is teased or tormented. He keeps to himself about this, knowing that he and Gerard are just scraping by as it is. The last thing they need is more drama. </p><p>A freshman from New Jersey is about to barge into Mikey's life, without even asking if he can come in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mikey wakes up early as ever. Being a vampire, he can run easily off of 3 hours of sleep, and his circadian rhythm is practically an unbreakable law. Around 2 a.m. he is out like a light, and at 5 in the morning he wakes up. Napping isn't a possibility, nor is sleeping in. Resting isn't as crucial to his body system as it is for humans. After all, his heart carries no beat. This also allows him to exert an incredible amount of physical activity. 

He knows kids at his school that can sleep for as long as 8 hours and still be tired. It's unbelievable, the notion of getting 8 hours of sleep and still being tired enough to complain. Those 5 extra hours spent being unconscious could be much better spent as far as Mikey's concerned. At 15, Mikey is bilingual, being fluent in both English and French. He can sew, knit, and make key chains. He can play four different instruments, skateboard well, code websites and mix music. He has the countless hours that his classmates spent sleeping to thank for the skills he's learned. 

He takes his precious time with everything like he always does. It's not like he's in a rush; school doesn't start until 8:30. He spends a lot of time showering, mostly trying to blow dry his wings enough so his binder won't feel gross against them. 

Mikey uses a chest binder worn backwards to conceal his wings. He's never wanted any negative attention to begin with, so he does all he can to lay low. If anyone found out about his vampire identity, he could see it being disastrous.

He layers a shirt and hoodie over the binder, pulling on a pair of jeans and sneakers. Running a hand through his unkempt hair, he stalks to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he grabs one of the gallon jugs of blood and takes a swig. His older brother Gerard working in the medical field was a smart move on his part. 

Mikey remembers when he was little, before Gerard ever had a steady blood supply. He's blocked a lot of those years out, but the memory of murder stays. Killing innocent people to sustain their own lives. It was awful, and Mikey never wants to resort to that lifestyle again. 

Not that his life in New York is much better. Mikey and his brother had fled to the city after the locals of their prior hometown got too suspicious. Mikey was shifted to the huge public school system where he still remains, although he hates it. None of the kids at his school are particularly fond of him, and Mikey pretends like he doesn't care but he really does. It's just easier to tell himself that it doesn't matter than to deal with it. 

Mikey finishes getting ready around 7, and he's just about to leave when crucial information hits him: it's picture day. He never goes to school on picture day; his picture wouldn't come out no matter what. He just skips every year, and while the school tries to arrange a retake, Mikey's blown them off so much that they'd given up on having him in the yearbook. 

Mikey gives a sigh of relief, shrugging off his backpack and kicking off his shoes. He removes his hoodie and shirt, squirming out of his binder before putting the shirt back on. 

Mikey pulls out his phone, surfing through social media slowly. Having all of these internet profiles is another part of blending in as a normal teen. The other kids at school would think he's weird if he had no online presence. Not that they follow him, anyway. He has a handful of friends on Facebook and a staggering thirteen followers on Instagram. The Instagram followers are mostly outcast middle school kids as well as self-promoting artists. That and spam accounts. 

Glancing at his Instagram, he notices a new follower notification. He frowns, muttering, "That's odd." Clicking on the user's profile link, up pulls a profile of a boy named Frank Iero. 

The kid looks around his age; fifteen or so with dark hair and brownish eyes. He has his nose and lip pierced, making Mikey let out a longing sigh. He's wanted a piercing for so long, but Gerard keeps giving him headaches about what would happen if he accidentally used silver jewelry. Depending on how long it was left in, it could do major damage to the area. 

Mikey peeks through his info. His profile says that he's 15, bisexual, and uses he/him pronouns. Wondering how this kid found him, Mikey looks to see who Frank is following. Frank is following a lot of kids from Mikey's school, to his surprise. Maybe Frank goes there? Mikey's never seen him around, but then again, he's usually in his own little world at school. Despite this, Mikey knows that he never forgets a face. While he hasn't spoken to most of them, he's seen a lot of faces at school, and this Iero kid is one he doesn't recognize. 

Mikey gives up on trying to make any connection to the kid. Whether Frank goes to his school or not, his main question is still unanswered, the question being why Frank is following him in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Mikey goes to school the next day, disgruntled that he couldn't skip today as well. Actually, he probably could ditch, but Gerard would kill him. Gerard's never scary when he's mad; he just gets real cold and quiet. It makes Mikey feel shitty whenever he sees his brother like that, so he does all he can not to piss him off. 

Lugging his ass around the school like it's a chore, he makes it through the morning pretty seamlessly. Of course, he has a loose definition of seamless. School sucks, no matter what. So he often adjusts the meaning of these words to fit the day. 

He takes his seat at lunch where he always sits. It's at this back table meant for three people. But no one else ever sits there. Mikey has always had these two spare seats, one of which he uses for piling up his backpack and books. The other though, he just kind of stares at that one blankly. Some days it feels like there should be someone there. But others, it feels like a person sitting there wouldn't be right. Mikey has a lot of internal conflict, the worst kind of conflict. 

Mikey sighs, poking through the grainy taco salad. He shouldn't have even bought lunch; he's not going to eat most of it. 

He puts his napkin over the offending taco salad and grabs a roll. Bread was the only thing guaranteed not to be nasty, and that was because the school bought it already made. 

Chewing on the roll slowly, he about chokes when his eyes wander to the salad bar. 

There's the kid from Instagram. Oh what's his name, Frank... Iero. That's his name, and he's standing right there giving himself a helping of lettuce. 

Mikey wants to dissolve in his seat. Literally no one from his high school follows him, and this kid did? Without ever having spoken to him? What if he sees Mikey? Mikey goes into full panic mode; he can feel his wings pulsating beneath the constraints of his binder. 

He grips the edges of his plastic chair till his knuckles are white. Should he move? Hide? Pretend he can't speak English? Oh God, Frank's looking over. Shit, his cover is blown! Frank's totally coming this way. What if he sits by him? Mikey would die on the spot. 

Frank sits, greeting, "Hi, I'm Frank." 

Mikey takes a moment to get his mouth working properly. "H-Hi I'm Mikey."

"Nice to meet you," Frank says, twisting the cap off his water. He takes a long drink, eyeing Mikey. Smirking, he rolls his eyes before breaking for air, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 

"What?" Mikey demands. "What's so funny?"

"You're fucking wigging out, man," Frank chuckles. He stops, asking, "You alright?" 

Mikey is sweating bullets. Damn his shitty anxiety and damn this kid for sitting with him. "Yeah, I guess. Just fine." 

"Good, 'cause I won't strain myself resuscitating you," Frank warns, pointing a strawberry loaded fork at Mikey. 

"Sure," Mikey mumbles. There's a pause in their conversation as Frank devours his meal (consisting entirely of what Mikey calls rabbit food). Mikey begins to munch on his roll, still not taking his eyes off Frank. "So what grade are you in?"

Frank looks up momentarily, lettuce hanging off his lip. "I'm a freshman. Yourself?"

"Sophomore," Mikey mutters. 

Frank nods, asking, "So you're in some harder classes, right?"

"Not really," Mikey replies. "I mean, maybe?"

"What about science?" Frank queries. "Are you in biology?"

"Yeah," Mikey answers. "I have it after this period, actually."

An ear to ear grin spreads across Frank's face. "Me too! Oh I'm totally sitting by you." He wipes his mouth with his napkin for the first time since he's eaten. "I was so scared I'd be all alone in there, y'know, with all the older kids."

Mikey nodded. "Yeah, no one really likes to be a loner."

Frank frowns. "Don't you?"

"What, me? Do I like being a loner?" Mikey repeats. When Frank nods, he just shrugs. "It's not by choice. I mean, a lot of kids at this school suck, so I wouldn't want to be around them anyways."

"Yeah, I get that," Frank sympathizes. He stands, picking up his tray. Glancing at Mikey's untouched food with the napkin over it, Frank asks, "Are you done?"

"What? Oh, yeah."

Frank doesn't say a word, just grabs Mikey's tray and carries both his and Mikey's to the trash. 

Mikey is awestruck. Not that no one's ever done something like that for him, but no one at school had. Mikey stares at Frank, watching the kid bang Mikey's tray against the side of the trash can to get the gelatin like food off. Frank returns the trays and heads back, tucking his hands into his pockets. Mikey just pretends that he hadn't just been watching him. 

Frank claims his seat across from Mikey, sighing as he lowers himself to the chair. "So, what's next, Mike?"

Mikey frowns. No one calls him that, not even Gerard. "I dunno. Class, I guess." 

Frank giggles just as the bell rings, sending hoards of kids scurrying off in all directions. Frank quickly grabs his bag, watching Mikey take his time standing and collecting his things.

"Um, Mikey? Could you hurry up?" Frank pleads. 

Mikey, head buried in his backpack as he stuffed a book in there, asked, "What for?"

"Aren't we going to be late?"

He has to be joking. Catching the boy's eyes, Mikey sees nothing but sincerity. He returns to zipping up his bag, assuring, "We have plenty of time." Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he starts walking fairly slow. Frank skips ahead of him, walking so briskly that Mikey can hear the fabric of his skinny jeans brush against each other. Mikey shakes his head. This kid, endearing as he may be, is certainly a freshman. And not just a freshman, but a geeky one. 

He followed Frank all the way to the class, which wasn't exactly easy at Frank's pace. Mikey is all but panting when they reach the room, this leveled cement floor that smelled vaguely of animal pens and aquarium chemicals. 

Frank found a spot near the rat cage, which Mikey was not happy about. His allergies did not play nicely with rodents, not as a vampire rule, but as a coincidence. He sat down, already feeling his eyes grow watery. He'd have to remember to take something for his allergies starting tomorrow, because something in the way Frank gazed adoringly at the rats told Mikey they wouldn't be moving. 

Frank sure did love those rats. He'd hardly pay attention to anything else going on. Halfway through the period, he shared the names he'd given them with Mikey (the white one was Shredder, the grey one Comet, and the patched one Calico. Mikey tried to explain that Calicos were exclusively a type of cat, but Frank didn't want to hear it. 

Frank ended up writing his cellphone number down and giving it to Mikey, instructing, "Text me later."

Mikey nodded. "Sure, yeah." 

He actually kept his word that night, to his own surprise. He had a shit memory, and he honestly would have forgot had the Green Mile not been on television. He was watching with Gerard for what seemed like the hundredth time. He and Gerard liked that movie for no real reason. Gerard refused to watch movies without some sort of silver lining, and the ending of that film was sufficient enough for him, despite the darkness throughout its entirety. Anyways, in the scene when the mouse came on screen, Mikey's thoughts absently wandered to biology class, then to Frank. He glanced at the time, and seeing that it was 10, decided it wasn't too late to text him. 

Mikey: hey dude 

Frank didn't end up replying that night, but in the morning, Mikey received a message so full of emojis he practically had to decipher it. It ended up not being worth the time, all Frank had texted was "sorry, was sleeping!" 

Hopefully this kid would make a better friend than texter.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikey's not sure what to expect the next day. Well, okay, he knows how some things are going to go. He's certain that he's going to turn in his math assignment that he completed. He's also sure that the food will be no good. He's positive that he will have gym class and he will hate every second of it. What he doesn't know is whether or not Frank's going to pursue this friendship they were establishing the other day. Such a cast question had a real simple answer. If Frank sits by him at lunch, he wants be friends. If not, it was just a fluke and Mikey will eat alone like he always has and Frank will go back to whatever it is that he's accustomed to. Mikey wasn't fond of the latter, but he was confident that either way, he'd be able to deal with it. 

If he's so capable of coping with rejection, why does the mere idea of Frank sitting elsewhere turn a key in his stomach? That's exactly what it feels like, a key. It feels like someone stabbed him in the gut and twisted it, rearranging his pierced organs. If that's what thought of it felt like, he'd hate to see it played out in reality. 

Lunch comes too slow and too fast at the same time. He sits there, picking apart his Italian submarine sandwich as he watches other kids get their food. He scans for Frank, catching no mop of inky hair like he usually does. Unconsciously, he begins to panic, eyes darting around the room. Frank is nowhere to be seen. 

His wings fluttering with anxiety, he tries to take his mind of it. Whenever things get too rough, he finds that distraction is the best route for him to take. He brings his thoughts back to that TV special he was watching last night, the one about dinosaurs. What was it about specifically though. The Cretaceous period, maybe? Let's see, the show definitely had some stegosauruses in there. What era are they from...

"Hey, man," Frank greets. Taking his seat, he comments, "What the hell happened to your sandwich?"

Mikey knits his brows in confusion. "My sandwi-" Looking down, he sees that he had absently torn it to bits in his semi-breakdown. Embarrassed, he covers it with a napkin, lying, "Oh, nothing." 

Frank giggles, "Whatever man." He starts on his carrots, asking between mouthfuls, "Hey you get that assignment from the other day done?"

"Assignment? What assignment?" Mikey demands. 

Frank's eyes widen as he reminds, "You know, the worksheet we have for biology? That's due today?" 

"Ah, shit!" Mikey curses. He leans back in his chair, covering his face and groaning into his hands. "I didn't do it. I'm fucked."

Frank nodded, agreeing, "One could say that." He bends over, reaching to his backpack. Pulling out a glittery (yes, glittery) blue binder, he fishes through it, finding the worksheet and passing it to Mikey. "Here."

Mikey takes it tentatively, stammering, "Y-you want me to  _cheat_?" 

Frank pulls that same wide-eyed look that probably means something along the lines of duh. "Well, it's not going to do itself."

Mikey picks up a pencil, asking, "Isn't that... wrong?"

"Do you want to get a zero?" Frank retorts. He reaches for the paper, declaring, "Because if that's the case then have fun in the failing grades study hall." 

Mikey snatches the paper back, shuddering at the thought of attending the failing biology grade study hall. All the rats in there, and not just the ones in the cages. Kids who fail biology are generally sack of shit juniors. These are the kind of kids that like to torment kids like Mikey and Frank. Mikey avoids all association with them whatsoever. 

Filling out the answers quickly, Mikey mutters, "Thanks, Frank." 

"Don't thank me," Frank insists. "I got the answers from Ellie Coleman. Thank her." 

Mikey rolls his eyes, but finishes with copying down the answers as fast as he can. 

Frank takes on the same speedy initiative once again as the bell rings. Freshmen had this constant fear that they were going to be late, that and the lingering feeling they're forgetting something. Frank suffers from both of these, but particularly the punctuality thing. He all but drags Mikey along to get there a solid two minutes early. 

They take their seats in the back corner by all the animal cages. Frank immediately begins playing with one of the rats, this patchy one. Frank's named all of the rats and refers to them only by these names. Mikey really can't tell one rat apart from another, and he knows it doesn't matter. Frank says that naming them gives them value or something like that, but Mikey couldn't care less about the self-esteem of a rat. He openly challenges whether or not rats have a concept of self-worth. 

Frank takes his seat once more students file in, his binder tucked to his side. One of the lovely juniors Mikey loathes so much pushes past Frank, smacking the thing to the floor. That's not so much what bothers Mikey, but what does is the mumbled, "Faggot." 

Mikey clenches his fists, spitting, "Hey asshole, pick that up." 

First assuring there's no teacher in the room yet (dear God, of all the days to take forever getting back from lunch duty), the junior advances to Mikey. "Why don't you do it, since you're his boyfriend." 

Frank is turning an alarming shade of red off to the side, and the binder remains on the floor. Mikey stands, crossing to pick it up. As he does so, he stomps the heel of his shoe onto the center of the junior's foot, making him cuss, "Fuck!" Not without scanning the room for a teacher, the kid shoves Mikey backwards, snapping, "You little bitch." 

Mikey crashes into a desk, hard. Enough to cause a ruckus, which in turn brings the teacher into the room. The picture is easy to put together: Mikey sprawled out on the floor, a mutual angry expression between him and another student, and Frank frozen in uncertainty. Still, they spend a good amount of time asking each and every "witness" exactly what happened before issuing the detentions: a pretty pink slip each for the junior, Frank, and Mikey.


	4. Chapter 4

            Frank is quiet for the whole rest of the class, not even moving a muscle. Not speaking isn’t really out of the ordinary for him; comments are sparse and chuckles occasional during class time. In fact, he doesn’t usually speak unless spoken to by the teacher. Despite this, he still sits there doodling, picking at his hands, or even flicking through his Twitter feed. However, after that fiasco ending in a detention, he sits in stony silence, still as a statue.

            It wigs Mikey out a little; he doesn’t like seeing Frank like that. Mikey keeps trying to nudge Frank with his foot or meet his wandering eyes, but to no avail. He has to settle for the end of class to talk to him, another attempt that goes haywire when Frank all but bolts out of the room.

            Mikey scrapes his belongings together and jogs after him, calling, “Frank! Wait up!”

            Taking brisk strides, Frank does not let up his pace, not even for Mikey. By the time the taller boy reaches Frank, he’s just about panting from exertion. “Dude, what the hell? I’ve been trying to talk to you for like forty minutes.”   

            “I don’t want to talk,” Frank mutters, pushing through the halls. Mikey dodges other students as he walks alongside Frank.

            “Is something wrong?” Mikey asks. “This isn’t about the detention, is it?”

            Frank stops for a moment to look at Mikey. “No, I’m _happy_ to have my first detention ever.” He curls some hair with one of his hands anxiously, adding, “It wasn’t even my fault.”

            “You think it was mine?” Mikey scoffs.

            “I sure as hell didn’t do it!” Frank retorts.

            “Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. You’re angry with me for defending you?” Mikey responds hotly.

            “I don’t need to be looked after,” Frank insists. “I’m fourteen years old; I can take care of myself.”

            Frank halts in front of the boys’ room, gazing at Mikey. “What, are you gonna go in with me? Stick up for me in case someone looks at me twice?”

            Mikey shakes his head, snapping, “You know what, fuck off.” He storms down the hall, not taking one last look back at Frank in his departure. Had he, he would’ve seen the tears fall from Frank’s eyes before he disappeared into the restroom.

            Mikey isn’t exactly thrilled about the detention situation either; he has to admit. He’s never been in the library from the dreaded hour of four to five, and he hadn’t ever planned on winding up there. Yet, there he is, using his free time in class to text Gerard saying he’ll be home late.

            It could be worse, of course. Sure, Frank’s totally pissed off at Mikey, Mikey isn’t exactly pleased with himself, and they have to share the lousy detention with that scummy junior, whose name Mikey hasn’t bothered to learn since the incident. But then again, there’s always natural disasters, nuclear meltdowns, and spontaneous combustion, so it’s all relative.

            Mikey repeats that in his head, “It’s all relative,” as he stalks into the library after school for detention.

            Mikey is one of the first ones there, and he takes a seat somewhat towards the middle among the rows and rows of desks. Frank shows up not long after along with a handful of deadbeat looking kids, but the junior that landed them there in the first place is a no show.

            For the sixty minutes Mikey spends in there, he mostly reads, stealing occasional glances over at Frank when he can. Frank is sitting across the room and writes in this notebook the entire time, but never consistently. He’ll write a sentence or two, pause for a couple moments, write a paragraph, then spend the next ten minutes trying to organize his ideas before putting them on paper. Mikey has reason to believe that by the end of the hour, Frank has less than a page written.

            God, does Mikey feel shitty. He feels awful just looking at Frank. He knows that it’s not all his fault, that’s for sure, but he can’t help but have a little guilt over how heated they’d both gotten, and so quickly. He figures he’ll apologize to Frank as soon as they’re let out of this godforsaken detention.

            Frank may or may not feel the same way; it’s hard to tell. He’s really wrapped up in whatever it is he’s doing, and he doesn’t give heed to much else. Heck, when they’re dismissed to go home, Frank sits there for a good minute or so before realizing he’s supposed to leave.

            Mikey uses this time to make his way over to the boy. He greets softly, “Hi.”

            Frank looks up and frowns. Tucking his notebook into his backpack, he replies, “Hey.”

            He stands, swinging the thing over his shoulder. “That was an hour of my life I’m never getting back.”

            Mikey forces an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, me neither. I can think of at least thirteen better things I could’ve done in that time.”

            Frank stops, spinning to face Mikey. “Look dude, this is too weird. I’m sorry, okay?” His gaze lowers to the ground as he murmurs, “I was just kind of upset about getting the detention. I wasn’t mad at you.”

            “I wasn’t angry with you either,” Mikey assures. “And don’t think that I uh… think that I have to protect you, you know?” Mikey tightens his grip on his book bag straps, nodding as he tells, “You can take care of yourself and I know that.”

            “Thanks,” Frank mutters. He peers out the adjacent window, squinting into the sun filtering through its glass. “Say, do you still want to hang out? I mean, I like you Mikey. I don’t want this to ruin everything.”

            “It didn’t,” Mikey says knowingly. “I like you too.” He also peeks out the window, watching students funnel from the door and to their respective vehicles. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

            Frank grins brightly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” With that, he parts, waving at Mikey once more before they take their separate routes.


End file.
